Fatale Monstrum
by Pairadicelost
Summary: A criminal from their past shakes up the CSIs and poses an extreme threat to Catherine that may forever change her life. Hints of GC, CW, GSR SN- basically any ship you can think of, although this is primarily a suspense story.
1. Default Chapter

The handcuffs were chaffing his wrists. He knew that they would leave a nasty welt and considered asking if they could be removed. However, from experience, he knew that they wouldn't allow that, even if he did promise not to do anything. Police officers were not very trusting. Much like the women he had been with.

"So what's your name?"

He hadn't paid much attention to his travel companion since he got in the vehicle, but now he awarded him with a sidelong glance. Officer Clark who was in the front passenger seat glanced at them in the rearview window while Officer Finch, who was driving, seemed to ignore that he heard anyone speak at all.

"Howard," he said, after contemplating for a moment whether or not the man was worthy of a response. The man wasn't like the previous inmates he had met. This one seemed too well-groomed to be categorized as a felon. He was handsome and clean shaven, with tousled brown hair and piercing blue eyes - the man's appearance was that of a banker or a business executive, not of a hardened criminal.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Howard. My name's Nathan."

When Howard didn't say anything, Nathan continued. "I'm on a murder charge in San Diego. That's why I'm being transported. You?"

Clark who had been watching them in the rearview mirror opened his mouth slightly as if to bid them to be quiet, but stopped, as if suddenly deciding that it didn't matter.

"There was an incident with a woman."

Frank raised an eyebrow. "In Nevada?"

Howard curtly nodded.

"But why are you being transported?"

"It wasn't just one."

Understanding flickered in the other man's eyes, and he smirked. "Women- you really do have to put them in their place sometime don't you? I can understand that."

Howard didn't respond to the comment, choosing instead to focus his attention on the never ending highway before him.

"You from Vegas?"

"Seattle actually."

"Small world. Me too. Went to school at there - University of Washington. I received my business degree."

Howard was mildly interested in this fact, not having expected the man beside him to have anything higher than a high school education.

"Seattle Art school," Howard said, deciding to play along a little longer with the small talk. It was going to be a long drive, and he felt willing to make small talk.

"Are you a painter?"

"Photographer."

"Maybe I've seen some of your work. I've been to a couple art shows in Vegas that showcased photography."

Howard shook his head. "My work was mostly advertising and models."

Nathan smirked. "Models? I bet you got a lot of action."

"There have been a few."

"I bet. You probably set the bar high now. Any normal woman probably fails to measure up to those models."

Howard allowed himself to smile. "You could say that, but there has been one or two that have piqued my interest.".

"Former girlfriends?"

"One was and now someone I'm currently seeing since I've been arrested."

Nathan whistled. "Does she know about your problem with the former girls?"

"Oh yes. There are no secrets between us."

"Glad to hear it. It's rare that men like us find someone who can understand them," Nathan said as he gazed out the window. He opened his mouth as if to continue but stopped when a sign caught his eye. "Hey!" He called up to the driver. "I need to go to the restroom. Can you stop at the next exit?"

"You can hold it," Clark said turning around to face the two prisoners through the wire mesh fencing that separated them in the van.

"Not if you want me to piss all over the seats and leave a nice smell for you two when you return back home."

Finch and Clark exchanged looks. "Well," Finch said slowly. "I could also use a stop."

Clark nodded. "Fine. Take the next exit." He sent a death glare toward prisoners sitting at the back. "But you two better behave yourselves."

Nathan tilted his head toward Howard and winked, as if sharing a private joke. "You don't have to worry about us."

Howard had a feeling that Nathan knew something that he didn't - but he was sure he was going to find out what that something was.

* * *

_**She and I would never be best friends. This I knew from day one of meeting her. We were too different - in lifestyle, personality, and thought processes. Sometimes I even wondered how we functioned together at all. There were times that I was sure she felt threatened by me. I think she was worried that I would somehow wedge myself between her and her boys - as if that could ever happen. She could do no wrong in their eyes, and in especially in his. I sometimes despised this fact. Everything I did was scrutinized and criticized, but with her everyone looked the other way. **_

_**However, although I really wanted to dislike her, I found myself envying and admiring her. Her strength and toughness was something I wished would rub on me. **_

**"_I've been where you've been," she had said to me. "But you'll get past it. You'll eventually learn that you were far too good for him."_**

_**I drank my vodka down, pretending to agree when all I had felt was loathing and hatred of myself and how stupid I had been. She gently touched my hand. "Hey, I mean it. Men are a dime a dozen, trust me on that. But we are far and few between."**_

_**She smiled at me, and it was the first time I realized that she was really in my corner. **_

If there was one thing Catherine wanted more than anything else in the world at that particular moment, it was a nightcap and at least six hours of solid sleep.

"Rough night?" Sarah asked, slamming her locker door shut.

"Another body dump at the landfill. Warrick and I spent all day today basking in city trash."

"I was wondering what that stench was earlier," Sarah said wrinkling her nose.

Catherine gave her a crooked smile as she pulled on her shirt. "You should smell Warrick. He slipped and fell into a hole at the site. I think he's going to have to burn the clothes he was wearing."

"Thanks for letting me know who to avoid today. Speaking of which, what are your plans tonight? I'm thinking of planning a little something for Nick's birthday. I know you get the next two nights off, but I thought you'd want to be here."

Catherine paused momentarily before saying, "Yeah, I think I can do that. Lindsey's at camp for the next couple weeks, so I'm basically free. What did you guys have in mind?"

Sarah grinned. "We were hoping you'd volunteer to do a little exotic dancing for him tonight. You know - as a birthday present."

"Fat chance of that happening. You guys couldn't afford me," Catherine said snorting, although for a moment she briefly entertained the idea, just to see the look on her co-workers' faces.

"Well, if you could use some of your connections-"

Catherine held up her hand to stop Sarah before she could say more. "You serious? You know Grissom would kill us if we had a strip show in the office."

"It was his idea!"

Now that, Catherine had trouble believing. "Has Grissom been inhaling chemicals around the lab?"

Sarah shook her head. "In his very own words he said "As long as it's during break time, I see no reason why we can't celebrate Nick's birthday."

Catherine was amazed. Grissom was surprising her more and more these days. But then again, everyone had been extremely wound up the last few weeks. Sara, especially, seemed a little more withdrawn than usual. Maybe this was Grissom's method of relieving everyone's tension.

After feigning contemplation, Catherine finally relented to Sara's pleading eyes. "All right, I'll call around today and see who I can get. I'm sure there are a few people out there who owe me some favors."

"It would be better if you danced," Warrick said coming into the locker room. Sarah wrinkled her nose once again at the smell that followed him. He gave her an apologetic look.

"Only in your dreams Warrick," Catherine said standing up and running a hand through her still slightly damp hair. "This is one dancer who has hung up her shoes in retirement."

"You wore shoes?"

Catherine slammed her locker shut. "And that's about all I wore." She heard Warrick let out a loud whistle as she headed out of the locker room, and the smirk remained on her face until she got into her car. She shut the door and sat back in her seat, rubbing her eyes gingerly. The sun was just coming up and she was now finally able to go home. Sometimes she wondered why she didn't take day shift, but then she would think of Ecklie and shudder.

The thought of the day shift supervisor faded away her good mood. She slipped her key into the ignition, ready to go home and enter a deep slumber, when she felt a cold wash run over her body. She whipped her head around to see what was behind her when she felt a hand clasp around her mouth and yank her so hard against her seat that she felt the car move from underneath her. Catherine barely had time to look into the rearview mirror to see her attacker before the chloroform set in. As unconsciousness set in, she heard only the words "I'm sorry."

* * *

When Warrick entered the break room, he found Sara staring hard at her cell phone, as if willing it to ring.

"You looked absorbed," he said, as he grabbed a drink from the fridge.

"Catherine hasn't called me back. She knows Nick's thing is tonight."

Warrick furrowed his brow. It's not like Catherine to not return a phone call, even if she wasn't on call. "You try her home phone?"

Sara nodded her head. "Twice. I even swung by her house before work to see if she got a hold of anyone yet."

"Anyone for what?" Nick said as he entered the room.

"Anyone to - uh - babysit Lindsey while she and I would be going to that CSI conference next week." Warrick said quickly.

"Uh - Warrick, I thought Lindsey was at camp for the next few weeks."

"Did I say we were going next week? I meant the week after that. Didn't I Sara?"

Sara nodded feverantly. "Oh yeah - I was totally thinking of taking in that conference myself."

Nick laughed. "You two are great CSIs, but you make the worst liars. You all planned on surprising me with something for my birthday didn't you?"

"Well, it's not much of a surprise if you know about it," Sara said sourly.

"C'mon guys, you know I hate surprises. I just want my birthday to pass on as if it were another day."

"We just want to do something special for you man," Warrick said slapping Nick on the shoulder playfully.

"Well, we wanted to. But unfortunately because I can 't get a hold of a certain CSI that plan was destroyed," Sara said glumly.

Nick was genuinely touched and he placed his hand on Sara's shoulder. "I'm glad at the thought Sara, but all I really want for my birthday is for you guys to go out and have a drink with me after work. How about it?"

Sara brightened up a little. "You got it Nick." She grabbed her cell phone off the table and slipped it into her pocket. "Let's hope Catherine calls before the shift is over. "


	2. Chapter Two

_**He wasn't quite sure where their relationship was going. Every time he tried to take a step forward, she seemed to take a step back. He knew they had chemistry. Their moment in the storm drain only confirmed it. If they hadn't been interrupted, who knew where they would be now. The physical attraction was definitely there- it had always been there, and he knew full well that there was also something more. She talked to him. Not anyone else. Him. But he couldn't understand why she refused to confront that fact. He figured he'd give her time. Time to sort it out and figure out what she really wanted. He just knew that he would be waiting, like he always had been.**_

Warrick drank down another jelly shot, realizing that it wasn't doing its usual trick of relieving his tension.

"I'm sure she's fine." Nick said, noticing his friend's restlessness.

Greg interrupted by sliding into his seat across from them, jerking his head toward Grissom and Sara who were in some sort of intense discussion at the bar. "What do you think that's all about?"

The table turned their attention to the pair. Sara was holding herself rigidly, her arms crossed defiantly as Grissom appeared to be lecturing her about something.

"Beats me," Nick said. "To me it just looks like a case of UST."

"UST?"

"Unresolved sexual tension. I read the term online somewhere."

Greg snorted up some of the beer he had just taken a sip of. "You're joking right?"

Nick laughed and shook his head. "It's only an observation Greg. Don't go giving up your hopes yet," he said as he indicated Sara with his eyes.

Greg felt his face flush, but took another sip of his drink. "So you guys heard from Catherine yet?"

"No. We swung by her house but we didn't see her car. Who knows, maybe she's shacking up with some guy that she doesn't want us to know about. Lindsey is out of town after all."

Warrick shook his head. "No, she'd tell me."

"I don't know Warrick. Catherine is usually pretty open, but the last few guys she's been with, we've always found out after the fact. Well - I know I was kept out of the loop."

"She'd tell me." Warrick said, a little harsher than he intended. He immediately regretted it and softened his expression. "Sorry Nick. I'm just - a little wound up right now."

Sara returned from the bar with a club soda in hand. "I met my quota for the night," she said, responding to everyone's unspoken question.

"I think we all have," Grissom said, a soda in hand. "We all do have to be at work tonight, Nick's birthday withstanding. We do need to get some sleep sometime."

"Sleep sounds good," Greg said waggling his eyebrows at Sara. "Care for a nightcap at my place Sara?"

"I would, but considering I might trip on all your toys, I'd have to pass."

"But if I put them all in my toy box there's still a possibility right?"

"Quit your begging Sanders and finish your beer," Nick said laughing.

Grissom grinned at the comradery at the table. It was moments like these that were becoming few and far between these days.

After downing the last drop of their drinks, the group decided that they had better get home to at least get some sleep.

"Hey, happy birthday again Nick," Warrick said waving to him as he headed out the door with Greg and Sara in tow.

"Thanks. See ya later today bro."

Warrick found himself alone with Grissom, who reached for his pocket to withdraw some cash to pay for his tab.

"You heading back home?" Warrick asked, as he slid some of his own cash on the table.

"No. I'm going to stop by and see if Catherine's home before I do."

Warrick raised an eyebrow. "You're worried too?"

Grissom sighed. "People don't usually break habit Warrick. You know that as well as I do. I'm sure everything is ok, but it would make me feel better to see her in person."

Warrick nodded. "Give me a call if you meet with her."

Grissom smiled faintly. "I'll have her call you myself."

* * *

**_Sometimes the lines of friendship blurred between them, but he didn't think she realized it. Whether she was eating breakfast at his house, or chatting in his office, there were times when he felt there would be no better person to compliment him. But when he __tried to cross over that invisible line of friend to lover, he always found himself being blocked. Whether it be other relationships or the fear of ruining something as enduring as their friendship, there was always something preventing him from taking that one great chance. But while he believed that there was a line to be crossed, he was almost positive that she didn't. When she had encouraged him to send flowers to Sara, it had cemented this belief. In some ways, this relieved him, for while his feelings for Sara were indeed complex, his feelings for Catherine were absolute and this scared him more than anything. Sara was safer. Sara was Sara. Sara was his last chance while Catherine used to be his only one._**

Grissom drummed his fingers against his desk. Catherine's vehicle had not been in the driveway. The thought that she could be at staying over at someone's house crossed his mind. There really wasn't any reason to jump to conclusions- there was no evidence to support that she was in any danger. She hadn't been answering her cell phone, but then again, these were her two days off and she wasn't on call. If she wanted privacy with whoever she was with, she could have easily decided to ignore any and all calls.

After leaving her house, Grissom called Warrick. He could feel the younger man's worry in his voice, but he tried his best to reassure him. If anything had happened, they would have heard about it by now. Catherine was fine, she could take care of herself.

Grissom stood and brushed his worries aside. He looked down at the assignments in his hand. Now was no time for worrying. Now it was time to work.

When Greg, Grissom and Sara got out of their Tahoe, Brass was waiting for them. "About time you guys showed up. The body ain't getting any warmer,"Brass said cracking a grim smile.

"Sorry. A traffic accident kept us backed up. What have you got for us Jim?" Grissom asked as he pulled on his baseball cap.

Brass chucked his thumb toward the tall, elegant house behind him. "One 'apparent' suicide. Mr. Bryce Logan. His co-worker found him. He came over to deliver some papers from work and found the door unlocked and slightly ajar. He let himself in and found Mr. Logans sprawled out on his desk. Bullet right here," Brass said as he tapped the side of his head. "The office is on the first floor. Turn to the right when you enter the house."

Grissom nodded and looked sidelong at Greg. "Greg, you're with me. Sara, would you mind questioning the witness with Brass? Find out if he touched anything."

Grissom moved toward the condo with Greg trotting to keep up with him as he hauled the equipment case. When Grissom swung open the door to the house, Greg let out a low whistle. "I wish I could afford someplace like this with my salary."

"I thought you didn't mind the paycut?" Grissom said and Greg looked at him sheepishly.

"I don't. But sometimes I think I might later on in life."

Grissom smirked at this, but didn't say anymore as he walked into the house. Following Jim's directions, he found himself standing in front of the victim's office, the door wide open. Greg made to move past Grissom, but he held the younger man back with his arm.

"Wait, what do you see?"

Greg raised an eyebrow questioningly and Grissom sighed. "Before you enter a scene, you should analyze it like it was something under your microscope. Sometimes an overall impression can speak volumes to you."

Greg nodded and looked inside. "Well, I see a dead body."

Now it was Grissom's turn to raise an eyebrow.

Greg, feeling a little under the microscope himself, swallowed hard and tried to come up with a little more insight to the scene.

"The televison is on beside his desk, so he must have been watching something - something that possibly could have upset him."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, it's on a blue screen, which usually means the vcr connected to it is on. He was watching a videotape of something. Usually people don't watch a movie before committing suicide, so I'm assuming that whatever he had been watching could have triggered it."

Grissom nodded. "Good. Anything else?"

Greg peered into the room, dying to move past this interrogation and start finding real evidence. He looked hard around the room, scouring the room for detail. "He's obviously very into videos. That's a whole wall of them on the side there. He's also single and probably doesn't have a steady girlfriend."

"Why do you say that?" Grissom asked smiling slightly.

"This room hasn't been dusted in years. The rest of the house looked pretty spotless, but he must have a maid and she didn't touch this room. Probably kept this room under wraps because of obvious reasons." Greg pointed to the safe located in the corner of the room. "Also, no single guy has a naked woman as his computer screensaver. Well- no single guy who doesn't want to be slaughtered by his girlfriend."

Grissom nodded. "Very good Greg."

"Can I go in now?"

"You can go in now."

As Greg began taking photos of the body, Grissom walked over to the television and crouched in front of the stand it sat on. An unmarked tape was sitting in the vcr, ejected. Grissom pushed the tape in.

"Hey Grissom, how likely is it that a left-handed person shot himself in the right temple?"

"Not very likely Greg why?"

Greg stood up from his kneeled position and picked up a notepad that had been laying across the desk. "Because I know a lefty's handwriting when I see one. My ex-girlfriend wrote with this slant," he said as he faced it in Grissom's direction.

"Nice observation Greg," Grissom said as he hit play on the vcr and stood back, watching the display on the screen. Greg walked up behind him and began watching as well.

"He also was into amateur porn. That woman is smoking." Greg said, gawking.

"She's also very married," Grissom said tilting his head sideways. "She's wearing her wedding band."

"And that's about it," Greg said with a grin.

"I think we may have a motive," Grissom said as he stopped the video despite Greg's protests. He turned off the vcr and reached to turn off the tv when something onscreen caught his attention, something that warrented more attention than the corpse in the room.

"Grissom- what's wrong? You recognize that guy?" Greg asked, indicating the man on television. His eyes widenened slightly. "Hey wait - that's the guy from the Julie Water's case last year right?"

"Yes," Grissom said, his mouth suddenly feeling very dry. "Howard Dulhomme."


	3. Chapter Three

**_Disclosure was never his strong point. He's a good listener; eternally playing the good guy role. He's also willing to listen to other people open up, but not willing to do it himself. Consciously, he's sure it's because of what happened to him as a child, but he doesn't like to dwell on it too much. He likes to think he is fine, and he lives out the majority of his life that way. And he never told anyone - never told anyone except for her. _**

**_He often wondered why he chose to tell her. He realizes he could have just clammed up, refused to give her any reasons for his deviant behavior during that case. But now he realizes that he told her because he knew she would always be there for him, just as he would always be there for her. _**

"You match those fiber strands yet?"

"Positive match," Warrick said as he looked up from his microscope, giving Nick a thumb up.

Nick sighed as he sat down in the chair next to Warrick. "I wish they were all as simple as that. And I can't believe that girl gave you her number!" Nick said, slapping Warrick on the back.

Warrick threw Nick a grin. "You can have it if you want it man. I know she was checking you as well."

Nick shook his head furiously. "No way bro. That traffic cop only had eyes for you."

"Yeah well, I'm not really interested in her."

His brow wrinkled. "Are you not sharing Warrick? Because you know I would share with you. Who's the woman?"

Warrick smiled, choosing instead to focus on bagging the evidence in front of him.

"Oh you are holding out! You know I live through you man," Nick sighed.

Warrick frowned at the comment. "When was the last time you had a date Nick? You got the game. You just got to go out and play."

"You know, what is with you people? Catherine told me the same thing the other day. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you guys were trying to set me up with someone."

"Well- Cath and I were talking about you the other day and we know one other lonely CSI mulling around."

"Lonely CSI- wait, you mean me and Sara?"

"Let the record show that you were the first to say it."

Nick shook his head. "Not a chance."

"What's the problem? She's attractive. You two get along well-"

"I'm not doubting that Warrick. I would date Sara in a heartbeat. There's only one problem."

"And that is?"

"She's totally hung up on Grissom."

Now it was Warrick's turn to sigh. "You can't let that stop you Nick. You know how far Sara is going to get with him."

"No, no I don't."

"C'mon man. It's Grissom. He may have feelings for her, but that man is emotionally stunted. Grissom may be the man, but he can't function in a normal relationship."

"And you know this because Grissom is so open?" Nick asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Let's just say that when Catherine drinks, she sometimes reveals a little too much, if you know what I mean."

Nick smirked at the revelation and was about to comment on it when his cell phone rang.

"Stokes," he said, as he flipped open his phone. As he listened to what Grissom had to say on the other line, all the good humor he had been feeling a moment ago dissipated. His smile faded away and his eyes met Warrick's, who was now looking at him with curiosity and uneasiness.

"Yeah, ok. We'll meet you in the conference room." Nick snapped his cell phone shut and looked at his partner. "That was Grissom."

"What's going on?"

Nick swallowed hard. "It's Catherine."

* * *

When Catherine used to dance, she felt no greater power. The way men would look at her- the way they would devour her with their eyes- she loved it because she knew she was the one in control. She was the one who ultimately called the shots. Last year, she believed Howard Delhomme looked at her like those men had all those years ago at the French Palace, but she was wrong. His look wasn't at all like those men who lusted after her; they looked at her with want; she was a desire. Howard's look was one of already possession.

"Hello Catherine. It's been awhile hasn't it? I trust your nap went well?"

She blinked groggily and tested her restraints, finding the knots on her rope expertly tied, almost to the point of pain.

"Last time I saw you Howard, you thought I was a bitch," she said, trying to keep her cool, even though she wanted to scream.

He smiled, that same smile she had seen when she first interrogated him. "Oh, I apologize for that. You see, that was in the heat of the moment. You were just doing your job. I understand that. I respect that."

Catherine laughed. "If you respect me so much, then why do you have me tied to this chair?"

Howard chuckled as he kneeled down in front of her so they were face to face. "Catherine, I may respect you, but I certainly don't trust you. Especially with what you did to me."

"How did you get out Howard?" Catherine asked, tensing up at his close proximity.

He smiled. "I had a little help."

"You weren't the one in my car," Catherine said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Who was it?" she asked.

Howard sat back on his heels. "My brother loves me very much."

Catherine's eyes widened in disbelief.

Howard continued, "He loves me enough to do what I ask him." Howard's eyes traveled to the wall and Catherine followed his view. She gasped when she realized what was covering them.

"How...how long?"

"Since I was put away. He's very good at surveillance you know. He was a private investigator at one time."

Catherine felt sick to her stomach. She turned her head away from the evidence, not wanting to see how her life had been violated. He reached to touch her face and she spat on him instinctively. The smile on his face was frozen as he wiped her spittle off his cheek. "Now that wasn't very nice of you was it?" he said, his tone remaining as even and calm as it was when he first spoke. He stood.

"I wouldn't do that again if I were you." Catherine stared at him, her eyes unblinking. "I don't want to hurt you Catherine, you have to believe me. On the other hand, I also realize there is no greater pain than love. No one knows that better than me."

* * *

Warrick, Nick, Greg and Sara sat around the conference table, waiting for Grissom to speak.

"As all of you know by know, Howard Dulhomme escaped three days ago," Grissom said, finally breaking the silence. "Authorities were not alerted until yesterday when the two officers transporting Dulhomme and the other prisoner did not check in. They found the car at a rest area near Baker with both officers in the trunk. Theynever left Nevada."

"Who was the other prisoner?" Nick asked.

"Nathan Blake. He was an accountant with connections to the mob. It's possible that these connections aided Blake and Dulhomme's escape." He leaned forward on the table." Now, this wouldn't concern us, except for the fact Dulhomme took a particular interest in Catherine."

"I'm sorry, but you all are going to have to refresh me on this one," Warrick said. "I wasn't involved in the case and I certainly wasn't privy to this interest Dulhomme had in Catherine."

"Howard Dulhomme was- is prone to obsession with women. He was obsessed with Julie Waters and it killed her, as well as several other victims. During his trial, it was revealed that he was also connected to a case in California. He was being transported there for trial," Grissom replied.

"And exactly how did he become 'obsessed' with Catherine?" Warrick asked, a slight accusatory tone to his voice.

Grissom drew back from the table, slightly taken aback. "It wasn't anyone's fault Warrick. He needed someone to transfer his fixation on and Catherine was the primary investigator. He just happened to choose her." Grissom said.

Sara flashed Grissom a look that did not go unnoticed by Nick who recalled the tension that had existed between all of them over the case. He cleared his throat. "So what are we saying Grissom? That it's possible that Dulhomme is a threat to Catherine now? He may be a nut, but she was just doing her job."

Grissom looked pointedly at Nick. "Has anyone heard from her within the last 24 hours?"

The CSIs all exchanged worried glances with each other, each one shaking their head.

"She's not picking up her phone. Her car isn't at her house. And no one has heard from her." Grissom tried to state the facts objectively, but everyone could sense the concern in his voice. No one wanted to voice what they all were thinking.

"What can we do?" Greg asked, concern etched across his face. "We don't have a victim. The U.S. Marshals are in charge of escaped fugitives."

"We don't even know if Catherine is in any danger," Sara pointed out.

"We don't know that she's not," Brass said as he entered the conference room, looking grimmer than usual. "We found her car."


	4. Chapter Four

_**Author's note:**_

_**Thanks for all the reviews! I really appreciate them. I also suddenly realized that I never set a timeline for this story. This takes place during Season 5 before the drastic changes. Also, since the show's revelation of Sara's past history, I found it fitting to imply it in the story. **_

* * *

When Grissom and his team arrived at the scene, they weren't sure what to expect. They feared the worst. Signs of a struggle. Semen. Blood splatter. The usual evidence they encountered in a possible missing person case. What they did not expect was the sight of a newly washed Tahoe, which had been clearly detailed, parked behind a two-star hotel on Fremont Street. 

"We found shit Grissom. There was nothing in that car. We couldn't even find any evidence that Catherine was in it, aside from her bag being in the front seat. Nothing appeared to be missing from it. Her phone, her wallet - it was all there. "

"It's definitely Dulhomme isn't it?" Greg said. "I mean, if it had been random, her stuff would be gone."

Grissom nodded in answer to Greg's question. "It's him. However, Dulhomme is either getting very smart or he's getting help. This doesn't fit his profile. Calculation and planning are not his forte."

"I talked to the manager of the motel. He doesn't recall when the car pulled in, but that doesn't mean anything. Judging from the beer cans surrounding his desk, he probably couldn't remember his mother's name if you asked him," Greg said.

"No witnesses in the rooms either," Grissom responded grimly. "Brass already interrogated everyone in the motel." He looked over at the empty Tahoe. Did he drive the car here or did she? Had he been in the car waiting for her? Was she hurt? Was she conscious? Was she even alive? Grissom tried to shake that last thought, but when he looked at Warrick, he could see his own fears mirrored in the other man's eyes.

"We're going to find her Warrick," he said, even though he was trying to reassure himself more than anyone else.

"Do you think he'll kill her?" Warrick asked, instantly wishing that he could take back the question.

Grissom pursed his lips and shook his head. "I don't know Warrick. He's violent, but he needs to be provoked. Catherine knows this. If she plays her cards right, she can get out of this alive."

"But at what price?" Warrick's asked softly.

Grissom turned his head slightly, averting Warrick's gaze. "Let's have the car towed back to the lab. Even if it was detailed, there has to be some evidence of what happened in that vehicle."

"And if there's not?" Greg asked.

" Francis Bacon once said that 'there is no comparison between that which is lost by not succeeding and that which is lost by not trying.' We're leaving no stone unturned."

* * *

Catherine's house felt more like home than her own apartment. It was warm, inviting, and felt final. Finality was a concept Sara never grasped. It was something she could not afford to believe in. Her life was always in constant upheaval; she never knew where she was going from one moment to the next. She had once thought Las Vegas would be her final destination. Now, she wasn't so sure. 

Catherine knew this was where she belonged. This, Sara was certain of, as she surveyed the pictures adorning the mantle of the fireplace, many of which were of Lindsey and others of relatives or friends Sara didn't recognize. She paused at a photo that had yet to be framed and picked it up, surprised to find herself in it. It was a group shot of the team, minus Catherine. Catherine had probably been the one behind the camera, Sara realized as she studied the photo.

The photo captured the personalities of everyone completely. Warrick and Nick were facing each other, their faces caught in laughter from some idiotic private joke they had probably been sharing with each other. Grissom was a bystander, a smirk spread across his face as he surveyed the other two men. And Sara - Sara was off to the side, looking at the three of them wistfully with a slight smile. She flipped the photo over and, in Catherine's neat handwriting, was "_Christmas party 2003. My CSI family_."

She put the photo down, a knot forming in her stomach. She never would have thought Catherine considered her part of her family, but then again, there were a lot of things she didn't know about Catherine - just like there were a lot of things Catherine didn't know about her.

Forcing herself to look away from the photos, she continued to survey the rest of the house. It was surprising well-organized and clean, especially considering the work load Catherine was usually saddled with. Sara was lucky enough to find her bed in her own apartment.

She searched every inch of the house, finding nothing out of the ordinary. Then again, she wasn't quite sure what she was looking for. Reluctantly, Sara moved to the one room she least wanted to search; the bedroom. It was one thing to go through a stranger's private things, it was another to go through a colleague's.

She leaned against the doorway, peering into the room. The window curtains was open, allowing the first rays of morning light to seep in. The room was distinctly feminine. The queen-size bed was neatly made with various clothes strewn across it, as if Catherine had difficulty finding an outfit to wear the last time she was in here. The dresser, complete with a mirror, was covered in various make-up products and perfumes. Sara approached it and began going through Catherine's drawers, feeling very voyeuristic. Shrugging the feeling off, she opened the bottom drawer and found yet another photo, laying face down. Out of curiosity, she flipped it over, revealing a young Eddie Willows with his arm wrapped around an even younger Catherine.

"She still loved him," Sara said mostly to herself, but Nick caught it as he entered the room.

"Loved who?" Nick asked, as he moved into position next to her. He peered over her shoulder, examining the photo.

"Eddie."

Nick shook his head. "I never could get my head wrapped around the idea of them. He had such a temper."

Sara looked up from the photo. "You don't think-"

Nick shrugged. "I wouldn't have put it past him. But then again, I wouldn't want to be the man who struck Catherine Willows."

Sara bit her lower lip slightly, glad that Nick didn't pick up exactly how upset she was at the mention of abuse, and carefully placed the photo back in the drawer. "I think she held it against me."

Nick cocked his head slightly. "Eddie's death? Sara- you know that Catherine knew you tried your best."

"No, no she didn't. You know that as well as I do. I don't think she would have ever forgiven me."

"Sara, Catherine would have-" He stopped, suddenly realizing that they were both referring to her in the past tense. Sara realized it herself, and the two of them looked at each other with uneasiness.

"Did you find anything outside?" Sara finally asked.

Nick was glad at the change of subject. "The mail hasn't been picked for two days. She never made it home. I also found some sizeable shoe prints outside the perimeter of the house. They are definitely not Catherine's or Lindsey's. They could be anyone. The postman. Friends of Catherine. Anyone. However -" Nick hesitated.

"However _what_ Nick?" Sara was surprised at the urgency in her voice.

"They were quite a few prints located outside Catherine's window."

A chill went down Sara's back as she realized the implication. "Friends usually don't hang out outside bedroom windows."

"Neither do postmen."

* * *

Grissom had been expecting the call, but he wasn't prepared to be civil. 

"What do you want Ecklie?" His voice was harsh, but Ecklie's was harsher.

"Well, aside from the fact that you and your team are working well past your shift, I want to know why the hell all your CSIs are working on one case? You pulled out on the Logan case and God knows what other cases are piling up."

"The Logan case is as good as solved Conrad," Grissom said tightly. "The evidence is being processed in the lab."

"That doesn't give me an answer Grissom. You can't have your entire team working on one case."

"This one case is Catherine."

There was a pause on the other end, and Grissom could sense Ecklie processing the information.

"Grissom-"

"If it had been someone on your team Ecklie, wouldn't you do everything in your power to find out what happened?"

When Ecklie didn't respond, Grissom chose to end the conversation. "I'll let you know the status Conrad. Thanks for your concern." He slammed phone down, still fuming. Conrad Ecklie may be in charge of the lab, but he certainly was not in charge of Grissom. Catherine often claimed he was not "politic" enough and he was sure his shortness with Ecklie would create consequences for him later, but at the moment he didn't care.

When Grissom broke out of his thoughts, he found that he had accumulated an audience in his office. Warrick and Greg were looking at him, defeat painted across their faces.

"Still nothing from the Tahoe."

"We tried our best Grissom." Greg said, looking very drained and weary.

"We combed it over from top to bottom," Warrick agreed, frustration creeping into his voice. "Not one fiber. Not one hair."

"Well, we may have had better luck than y'all," Nick said as he and Sara entered the office on Warrick's last words.

Warrick whipped his head around. "You found something at Catherine's?"

Nick nodded. "I've got some footprint molds that were located outside her window."

Warrick's face fell slightly. "That just proves who took her. Not where she is."

Sara shook her head. "Catherine never made it home from the lab that day. Her mail and newspapers prove that. These prints were there long before she was kidnapped. Which would mean-"

"Someone else had to be involved," Grissom finished, his voice tingling with excitement. Now they were finally making some progress. He opened his mouth to start giving orders, but paused when he noticed that his CSIs were each beginning to show signs of exhaustion. "I know we're all tired here, and if any of you want to go home and get some rest now, I'd understand."

Warrick didn't even hesitate. "I'm not going anywhere until we find Catherine."

Nick, Sara and Greg all exchanged looks, nodding to each other. "We're fine Grissom. We're going to do what we have to do," Sara said for the rest of them.

A grin formed on Grissom's face. "Well then, let's get to work shall we? Greg, I want you to dig up Dulhomme's file for me and make copies. Nick, I want you to analyze the mold you made and match a shoe type and size. Warrick and Sara- I want both of you to go back to Catherine's house. Interview her neighbors. Find out if any strange cars had been in the vicinity recently. The sooner we gather evidence, the sooner it will lead us to Catherine."

The group departed Grissom's office, each person finding a resurgence of energy they didn't know they had. And once the last person left, Grissom sunk back into his chair, placing his head between his hands, wishing that he could retain even a smidgen of their optimism and hope.

* * *

The pain was searing. She lolled her head backward, trying to ease the exhaustion and pain that was shooting through her body. She peered through her lidded eyes to see Howard still sitting across from her, his face expressionless. She licked her dry lips. 

"You treat every girl like this on a first date like this?"

Howard leaned forward, a frown on his face. "I find it interesting that you can make jokes at the moment. Most women I know would be sobbing by now."

"I've never been most women Howard." It was said with more confidence than she felt.

"That I am beginning to realize," he said, as he leaned back in his chair. "You're still in pain."

"What clued you in?" She retorted, wondering how insane she was to be taunting a man who had just beaten her. The wire rod remained in his hand, as if reminding her it could be used again.

He stood and she involuntarily flinched. He walked out of her field of vision, and suddenly the room was illuminated with light. She winced at the sudden brightness as Howard moved back into her sights and switched off the lamp that had previously been the only source of light. She found it slightly amusing that he was trying to conserve electricity.

With the room now completely lit, she was able to examine her surroundings more clearly. The room was not a room, but a small studio, complete with a kitchen and a single bed. She couldn't see the exit, but she assumed it was behind her, and the bathroom door was slightly ajar. She quickly noted that there were no windows, not even in the bathroom. Her eyes wandered toward the wall of photos, and she quickly averted them to see that Howard was now rummaging through a drawer next to the stove.

"I am sorry to have to resort to such measures Catherine, but I can assure you that it does not mean I don't love you," Howard said, as he found what he was looking for.

"You don't love me Howard," Catherine said, her tone sounding weaker than she liked. "You don't even know me."

"Oh, I know you. I know you better than you do yourself. It's amazing what you can learn about people when they don't know you're watching you - what they hide from other people." He withdrew a knife and a pair of handcuffs from the drawer. He turned to her, noticing her eyes fixated on the knife.

"Oh, don't worry. I'm through with my lesson." Setting the knife and handcuffs down, he picked up a syringe that had been sitting on the counter next to him.

"What is that?" Catherine asked, unable to keep the panic out of her voice.

Howard approached her and gently grabbed her arm. "Just a little Ketamine."

Catherine's eyes widened at the mention of the drug. Not only would the drug paralyze her, but it could possibly cause hallucinogenic episodes. She unsuccessfully tried to jerk away from him. "No Howard, I don't-"

He cut her off with his ejection. "Don't worry. It's a low dosage. Just enough to keep you from doing anything you'd regret later." He retrieved the knife and handcuffs and used the knife to cut the ropes that bound her arms and legs to the chair.

The drug had already taken an immediate effect, her arms swinging next to her helplessly. He picked her up with little effort and laid her on the bed. He adjusted her hands above her head and handcuffed her to the bedpost. Sitting alongside her on the bed, he traced her face softly. Even with the drugs surging through her body, she couldn't prevent shuddering under his touch. She knew that's what he wanted, and she was disappointed in herself for giving him the satisfaction of realizing that he had power over her and her emotions.

"You'll come to enjoy being with me Catherine," he said with certainty. "I know you may hate me now, but you'll come to love me as much as I love you."

For Catherine, the concept of love had never been more frightening.


	5. Chapter Five

**Author's Note: Hi all! Sorry for the belated chapter, but finals week is coming and I've been swamped with homework. I barely have enough time to watch CSI. ;) Someone asked when I was going to finish this story, and I can't guarantee a timeline. I will say, however, that everything has been plotted out. There's a direction and it may not be the prettiest in terms of characters. The kidnapping angle I find is a little cliche, but I like to think I have a unique angle on it. I will hopefully continue to have a chapter outon a weekly basis. Thanks again for the reviews. Keep them coming! They feed me during my studies!**

Thomas Madsen peered into the office, studying the man who was intently staring at a file. He cleared his throat, hoping to catch his attention, but the man didn't even twitch.

"Dr. Grissom?" He asked, finally gaining the other man's attention.

Grissom looked up to see a tall man approach his desk with his hand outstretched.

"Thomas Madsen. I'm with the FBI. I was in charge of Dulhomme's case in California."

Grissom took off his glasses and leaned back in his chair, ignoring the hand. Madsen chuckled nervously and raked his hand through his sandy-blonde hair as he seated himself.

"I can see we're going to get off to a wonderful start."

"I haven't had the most pleasant dealings with FBI in the past," Grissom admitted as he examined the man who looked like he was barely over the legal drinking age. "And I haven't been given any reason to assume that in this case, it would be any different. Did Ecklie call you here?"

Madsen sighed. "Dr. Grissom, I can assure you that I don't intend on taking over your investigation with my own team. In fact, I'm here of my own accord. The U.S. Marshals and other FBI agents are following their own leads."

"Which are?"

"None," Madsen admitted. "That's why I'm here." He threw the file that he had been carrying across the desk. "This is all that we've had to go by."

Grissom opened up the folder. He jerked his head back up to meet Madsen's gaze. "These are-"

Madsen nodded. "They covered Dulhomme's cell."

Grissom returned his attention to the folder. They were all photos of Catherine, all taken from within her home or outside the office. He shuffled through the photos, his hands gripping the edges angrily.

"There were news clippings as well," Madsen said softly.

Grissom threw the photos on the table. "You mean to tell me that this man was obsessing over Catherine for the past year and no one told her?"

Madsen shrugged. "What is there to tell? He was in lock-up." Madsen began jerking his knee nervously, and the motion caused Grissom to raise an eyebrow. "Sorry," the younger man said as he willed his knee to stop, mentally kicking himself for being so unprofessional. "I- uh- it's a nervous tick."

"And you have something to be nervous about Agent Madsen?"

A dark cloud formed over Madsen's handsome features. "Perhaps. This shit is going to hit the fan soon Grissom. The media is going to get a hold of this story, if they haven't already."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Grissom asked, forgetting his own professionalism. "We haven't even notified Catherine's family yet."

Madsen winced. "Conrad Ecklie, as well as my supervisors, believed the sooner we broadcast missing persons, the better chance we would have in smoking out Dulhomme."

"Christ, this is like the Julie Water's case all over again," Grissom said vaulting from his chair, causing the folder to fall to the ground and the photos to spill out. Cursing, he began picking them up.

"Hey boss, I got a match," Nick said as he swung the door open to Grissom's office. Once he noticed Madsen, he drew back. "Sorry, I didn't realize you had company." He glanced over at Grissom, who was still piling photos back in the folder. "Are those photos of Catherine?" Nick said, catching a glimpse.

"Yes. They were found in Dulhomme's cell." Grissom straightened up. "You said you have a match?"

"Shoe size is 10. Nike Air Max. "

Madsen stood. "I'm willing to bet James Dulhomme owns a pair of those Nikes."

"The brother?" Grissom asked crossing his arms.

Madsen nodded. "I've already got your Captain Brass rounding him up for questioning. He was the one who delivered the photos as well as the clippings to Howard in prison."

"So you're on a first name basis with 'Howard'?

"Let's just say, I probably know more about Howard Dulhomme than any of your evidence was able to uncover. I'm a profiler Dr. Grissom. I interviewed Howard extensively while he was in custody."

Grissom re-evaluated the man, and Madsen felt himself squirm under the intense scrutiny. "Well, it is good to have you on the team then. But I want you to get one thing straight. This is my team. My investigation. I'm ready and willing to accept all the help I can get, but if you or anyone else tries to step on my peoples' toes, your ass will be out the door."

Madsen held up his hands in defense. "No arguing from me. It will be my pleasure to work with one of the best crime labs in the U.S. I also know I'm working with the best team in this lab."

Nick squinted at him slightly. "You're a new agent aren't you?"

Madsen shifted his eyes between Grissom and Nick, his leg beginning to twitch again. "Why do you say that?"

"Oh, they can usually kiss the best ass," Nick said, as the door shut behind him with a resounding thud, leaving a bewildered Madsen with an extremely amused Grissom in his wake.

* * *

When Sara and Warrick returned from Catherine's neighborhood, they found Grissom and Brass outside the interrogation room, looking in. 

"What did you guys find?" Grissom asked, noticing their reflection in the glass when he heard the door swing open.

"No one recalls seeing any strangers outside Catherine's house, but they often saw a green Ford pick-up parked across the street. No one knows who it belonged to," Warrick said.

Brass looked over at Grissom. "Same vehicle our Mr. James Dulhomme drives."

Grissom tilted his head in acknowledgement.

"James Dulhomme? The brother?" Sara asked, as she and Warrick approached Grissom's side.

"Yes, he's being questioned right now."

Warrick's eyes narrowed. "Who's the guy with Nick?" He didn't like the thought of someone else butting into their case.

"FBI Agent Thomas Madsen. He was in charge of the Dulhommeinvestigation in California."

The four of them watched as Nick and Madsen began their questioning.

"Are those Nike Air Max's that you're wearing?" Nick asked, his eyes directed toward James's feet. "Man, those are nice shoes aren't they?"

"They're comfortable," James said, his voice cautious.

"What size do you wear? I bet you're a size 10 or 11."

"10."

Nick smile turned into a grim line. "Mr. Dulhomme, we found shoe prints matching your's outside Catherine Willow's house."

The man shifted uncomfortably in his seat, while his lawyer spoke up. "It's a common shoe size and brand. It could have been anyone," he said, adjusting his wire-rim glasses.

"That's very true," Madsen admitted, as he pulled out the photos that had decorated Howard Dulhomme's prison cell. He fanned the photos out on the table. "Did you take these Mr. Dulhomme?"

It was the first time Warrick and Sara had seen them. They were close enough to see what they were, but far enough away to not make out the details. Sara turned away, feeling sick while Warrick tensed up, his hands forming into tight balls by his side.

His lawyer bid James to be quiet, but the man shook his head. "You know I did."

"And you delivered these photos to Howard at prison didn't you?"

"Look, is this what this is all about? I told your other people that I had nothing to do with that woman's kidnapping. Yes, my brother had an obsession with her. Yes, I took photos for him. There was nothing technically illegal."

"You were stalking her," Nick exclaimed, getting a stern look from Madsen, but not caring. "Under Nevada State law, it _is _technically illegal."

James laughed. "Whatever. She's not the kind of woman who probably would have minded Howard jerking off to her photos. The woman used to take off her clothes for a living. So what if I took some photos of her undressing. It's nothing that anyone hasn't seen before."

"That asshole-" Warrick snarled, preparing to storm into the interrogation room and beat James Dulhomme to a bloody pulp.

Grissom grabbed Warrick by his arm and swung him against the wall, holding him to it with more strength than he thought he had. "Warrick, you can't go in there with your state of mind. You know Ecklie's looking for a chance to pull us off this case. If he sees you blow your lid, Catherine's case shifts hands and you get suspended. If you want to help Catherine, don't let your feelings interfere with the investigation," Grissom hissed.

Warrick's eyes looked pained, but he nodded in defeat. Feeling satisfied that he wouldn't try and pull anything, Grissom finally released his grip, but instead of returning to watch the interrogation, Warrick stormed out of the room, into the hallway,

Sara started to go after him, but Grissom held her by the elbow. "Let him go. He needs to burn off that anger."

"We're all going to need to do that soon," Brass said nodding toward the interrogation room. "They're not going to be able to hold him. A missing person can't exactly file charges against a stalker."

"Do you think he knows where Catherine is?" Sara asked Grissom, studying him as he, in turn, studied James from behind the mirror.

"Without a doubt," Grissom said finally, even though it was against his nature to speculate."We just need the evidence to prove it."


	6. Chapter Six

_She was in the park with Lindsey, sitting on a bench eating an ice cream cone. The sun was shining, and people surrounding her were enjoying the day; walking with their children through the park, laughing and oblivious to anything else that was going on in the outside world. She turned and looked at her own daughter, smiling as she took a bite out of her cone._

_"I wish we could be here forever like this," she said, ruffling her daughter's hair._

_Lindsey scrunched her nose. "Mom, I'm not five anymore you know. I wish you wouldn't do that."  
_

_Catherine smiled wistfully. "Sorry, I just sometimes wish you were eternally five is all. You were so much easier to please."_

_"We all have to grow up sometimes Mom," Lindsey said, her face turning serious._

_"Well, when did you suddenly become so profound?" Catherine asked teasingly._

_Her daughter didn't say anything, opting instead to focus on the swing set in front of her.  
_

_Catherine sighed. The distance between her and her daughter had been growing further and further apart as time flew by. She supposed her daughter's rebellious nature came from her, and she was constantly afraid that Lindsey would take the path with the most resistance, like she had done those many years ago._

_"I don't know what to do about this," Catherine said, finally breaking the silence that hadfalled between them. Shetossed the remainder of her cone into a nearby trash can. "I'm trying Lindsey. I really am. I don't know what you want from me."_

_"I want you to be here for me," Lindsey said._

_"I'm trying honey, I am. I put in for the day shift position-"_

_"No, I meant now."_

_"What?" Catherine asked, startled by the comment. She was there for her now, wasn't she? Lindsey looked her square in the eyes, and Catherine was amazed at the seriousness her daughter radiated._

_"You're not here."_

_"I am here for you Linds," Catherine said, concern etched across her face. It was then that she noticed that everyone in the park had disappeared. Gone were the sounds of laughing children and the birds chirping in the trees. In its place was a stony cold silence. She felt a chill run down her spine and Lindsey looked at her knowingly._

_"No can't be Mom. You can't be when you're dead."_

Catherine woke abruptly. The sound of the television breaking her from her dream, that was still vivid in her mind's eye. Reality finally set in, and she realized where she was.

Lifting her head up slightly, she noticed Howard sitting on his knees, watching a television that hadn't been there previously. She focused on the table, and noticed grocery bags sitting on top. While she was passed out, he must have gone shopping. She let her head fall back on the pillow, wondering how long she had been sleeping.

The mention of her name on television jarred her from her thoughts, and she lifted her head once more; this time to focus on the television screen that was now flashing a photo of her next to Dulhomme's.

"Catherine Willows has been missing for over two days. Willows played in an intergral part in Dulhomme's conviction The Las Vegas Police Department has refused to speculate as to why Dulhomme may have kidnapped Willows, but inside sources say that revenge may have been a motive."

Howard must have sensed her movement, for he turned around to face her, a warm smile on his face. She couldn't disguise her revulsion at the sight of it.

"They're looking for you."

"They'll find me." Catherine was startled at the hoarseness of her voice.

He ignored her statement and stood, moving to empty the grocery bags that were sitting on the table. He left the television humming in the background.

"I bought us some groceries. You haven't eaten anything. You have to keep your strength up. You should probably drink something as well."

She would need strength; strength to get her out of this predicament. His mention of a drink made her realize that she needed to go to the bathroom - and badly. A majority of the past two days, she had been passed out, unable to relieve herself. Now, she had reached her body's limit.

"Howard, I need to use the bathroom."

He paused while his hand was still in the grocery bag and looked at her.

"Unless you want me to go in this bed," Catherine said, pulling on her handcuffs.

He nodded, and withdrew his knife from the kitchen drawer, as well as the keys to the handcuffs.

"You go into the bathroom and then you come directly out. If you attempt anything, I guarantee that you will not like the consequences," Howard said, indicating the knife.

Catherine, who could barely feel her own arms above her, nodded.

Once assured that she was docile, he uncuffed her from the bed. Her arms tingled at the sensation of blood finally being able to flow. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, and tried to stand, finding herself collapsing in the process. The Ketamine must be still in her system, she thought.

Howard lifted her by her waist, bringing her in close proximity to him. She tried to squirm out of his grip, but he held her firmly.

"You're still disorientated," he said as if talking to a child. "You need to hold on to me."

She was in no position to argue. Reluctantly, she gripped his waist as he literally carried her to the bathroom door.

She gripped the door as if it were a lifesaver and used it as leverage to keep her up. When she was sure she was steady, she entered the bathroom and began to shut the door when Howard's hand gripped the outside handle.

"You can't be serious," she exclaimed, realizing that he wanted her to keep the door open.

His eyes flitted past her. He assessed the bathroom briefly before removing his hand. She slammed the door shut and stumbled toward the toilet, feeling as if she were going to explode at any given time.

Once she was relieved, she accessed the small room herself. Like she noted previously, there was no window. Just a small tub, a sink and a medicine cabinet. She looked into the tub, seeing only a bar of soap, shampoo and a loofah on a long rope hanging from the shower head. No help there.

After determining that there wasn't a lock on the bathroom door, she turned on the water, hoping the noise would prevent Howard from coming in as she opened the medicine cabinet. Besides a toothbrush and toothpaste, all that wasthere wasa razor and some brand new blades. She considered the blades, but then thought of Howard's knife. She closed the cabinet with a sense of defeat.

Howard opened the door, just as she turned off the water. She eyed the bag in his hand suspiciously.

"I thought you might want to shower," he said as he set the bag on the floor. She peered over it and noticed that it was full of clothes.

"I took the liberty of buying some clothing for you," he smiled, as if he were a kid who brought home a perfect report card and needed praise.

She shook her head and stood back, crossing her arms defiantly. "I'm not wearing them Howard." She wasn't going to give into his fantasy.

"Catherine, the way I see it is that you really don't have much of a choice." He placed a small bottle of hydrogen peroxide on the counter. "I thought you might need that to tend to your cuts. We wouldn't want more of them now would we?" His voice remained sugary, but Catherine could sense the underlying threat. She hesitated, her stance faltering. She had talked big before, but she wasn't sure if she could withstand anymore torture.

He took her silence as acceptance. "Good, I'm glad that we have an understanding. Our relationship is a mutual exchange Catherine. You give a little, I give a little. Now I'm going to close the door and allow you some privacy. I will give you 30 minutes to shower and dress. If you are not ready by then - well, it won't come to that point now will it?"

When he finally shut the door Catherine reached into the bag, pulling out a very short, red spaghetti-strapped dress. Underneath the dress, there were lacy undergarments and a variety of makeup and perfumes that Howard must have intended her to use; all still shrink-wrapped and packaged.

She threw the dress back in the bag and turned to face the mirror. She barely recognized the thin, haggard face that stared back at her. She numbly lifted her shirt over her head, wincing at the pain that tracked across her back. She turned backward, and twisted her head over her shoulder to examine the damage. The wounds were still red and raw, a tangible reminder of what Howard could do to her.

She leaned back against the sink and looked at the bag. She knew she had to play into his fantasy. It was the only thing that would keep her alive. But she promised herself one thing. No matter what happened, he would not see her cry. He would not break her. She would die before she allowed him to do that.


	7. Chapter Seven

**A/N: Sorry for the short and delayed chapter. I just finished with finals a day or two ago. Yay me! Anyway, more to come within the week...**

* * *

Greg woke to the sounds of the television playing in the break room. He rubbed his eyes gingerly as he swung his legs over the couch and propped himself up. 

"You're awake," Warrick said, looking surprised as he looked over at the younger man. "Sorry. I wanted to watch the news."

Greg flickered his eyes toward the television screen. The photo Catherine usually brandished on her lab badge was now alongside Howard Dulhomme's police mug on the television.

"Information was leaked to the media?"

"Ecklie," Warrick said, not able to keep the venom out of his voice. He sighed and shook his head. "You just missed the press conference. I don't know if this was a good idea, but I guess he's thinking of Catherine. The sooner someone phones in information, the sooner we can find her."

Greg nodded wearily, still rubbing his eyes. "Has anyone notified her family?"

Warrick paused. "I think Grissom is calling her sister. I don't know if she'll tell Lindsey or not." Warrick stood. "You can go back to sleep. I don't think I can watch anymore of this."

Greg shook his head and looked at his watch. "No thanks. I've been here for over five hours. I can't believe I slept that long."

"We're all tired man," Warrick said.

"You should get some rest." As soon asthe words leftGreg's mouth, Warrick halted at the door. He turned and his eyes seared into Greg's.

"I can't rest Greg."

Greg took in Warrick's tired appearance. "You won't do Catherine any good like this."

"I don't think I can do her any good regardless."

Greg let the comment sit for a moment before saying, "She's going to be ok Warrick."

"We keep telling ourselves that," Warrick said, his tone matter-of-fact. He slipped out of the break room.

"She will be fine," Greg said to an empty room. "Won't she?"

* * *

James Dulhomme was let go. They had nothing to hold him. Nothing to prove he had anything to do with Catherine's disappearance. Nothing but evidence that this man had invaded Catherine's life. He had followed her, taken her photos, and watched her during her most intimate momentsand now they couldn't do a damn thing about it. Nick angrily shoved the photos back insidethe manilla envelope. He stared hard at the envelope and his thoughtsinvoluntarily touched upon Nigel Crane. 

After Nigel Crane had been in his home, Nick had tried to scrub away any evidence that the man had existed. He went through his home, inch by inch, cleansing anything he may have touched or used. He repainted the walls, rearranged the furniture. He even threw away everything in the refrigerator, fearing that Crane may have eaten or drank from something in it. But despite all his efforts, the ghost of Crane remained; hanging over him every time he came home from a particularly rough night at work. Hanging over him, every time he went to bed or spent the evening alone in his apartment. Eventually he moved, but the ghost never left him. He was sure if Catherine died, he would have another ghost haunting him.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he turned to find Sara with a comforting smile on her face.

"Hey. You ok? You've been in here awhile," she said, gesturing to the interrogation room around them.

He nodded mutely, but when her gaze hit his hands, he looked down and realized that they were shaking. He put the manilla envelope down. Unexpectantly, Sara took his hands and held them in hers, calming them.

"Grissom's ordered us home. We can't do anything right now."

Nick barked out a laugh. "What are we going to do at home?"

"Sleep. Rest." Sara sighed. "I think we need fresh eyes. Tonight will be better, once we can think things through. Madsen said he'd brief us on Dulhomme's profile. Maybe we can gain some insight."

"Where is Madsen?"

"Doing what we should be doing - getting rest."

Nick's hands were still within Sara's and he stared down at them. She pulled away, blushing slightly under his scrutiny. He looked up at her, his eyes burning brightly into hers. "I can't do anything until Catherine is found. What if, because we don't act fast enough, he kills her? What if tomorrow morning she's one of those bodies out on that slab in the morgue? Just waiting for us to gather the evidence. Just waiting for us to find out how and when she died? And what if it's all because we couldn't keep James Dulhomme here? Couldn't get him to tell us where his brother took her? Couldn't get him to tell us what he's planning on doing to her?"

Sara, surprising herself in the process, pulled Nick towards her and enveloped him in a hug, shushing him. "It's going to be all right Nick. I know you don't think so now, but I know she's going to be ok."

Nick was surprised at the gentleness of her voice. It was so unlike Sara to offer comfort. It was more like Catherine. "Sara, how can you be so sure?"

Sara smiled, even though Nick couldn't see her face. "Because she's got the best CSIs in the U.S. investigating her case. And because Catherine is the toughest bitch I know. She won't let him take her down Nick. I know it."

Nick laughed, despite the wetness that was forming from his eyes. Sara continued to hug him tightly, and Nick breathed in her scent deeply, imagining, just for a moment, that Sara was his girl, Catherine was back home, playing with Lindsey, and there were no more Cranes and Dulhommes wandering the streets. For Nick, everything was right with the world, even if it was for just for a moment.


	8. Chapter Eight

When Catherine emerged from the bathroom, she found that Howard had made dinner. The table was now decorated with a table cloth and a setting for two. A tall, thin candle was placed in the center of the table, illuminating the otherwise darkened room.

Catherine shifted uncomfortably as Howard looked at her from top to bottom. The dress was as tight and revealing as anything she'd ever worn before, but for once she wished her attire was more modest. He broke out into a broad smile. "You look beautiful."

Catherine forced a smile. "Thank you," she said, and sat at her place at the table. Howard brought over a bottle of wine and poured her a glass.

"I made steak. I hope you like it. My brother used to say it was my specialty."

Catherine was disturbed by his domesticated demeanor, but she didn't say anything. She didn't want to test the waters yet. Staring down at the food, Catherine wanted to say she wasn't hungry, but her body told her otherwise. She hadn't eaten in a few days, and the stomach pains had slowed down to a steady, dull throb.

"Please, eat," Howard said, taking a seat across from her.

Catherine sat and began chewing her food slowly despite her overwhelming hunger. She knew that she would only get sicker by taking in the food too fast. Howard was content to watch her eat, and the intensity of his scrutiny made it difficult for her to concentrate.

"You never told me you had a daughter," Howard said suddenly, after minutes of silence.

Catherine froze at his words as Howard peered at her over his own dinner. He took a sip of wine. "She's going to be very beautiful, just like her mother. I saw her in the photos my brother took."

Catherine didn't say anything, choosing instead to focus on the remainder of food in front of her.

Howard sighed, displeased at her silence. "I wouldn't hurt her Catherine."

"Just like you wouldn't hurt those girls?"

Howard's face contorted slightly, but he quickly regained his composure. "I never meant to hurt them." His tone was remorseful, and if Catherine didn't know any better, she would have believed him.

"If you never meant to hurt them, they wouldn't be dead," Catherine said frankly. She took a bite of salad, watching his reaction.

"Nothing was premeditated." His tone filled with meaning. "I cared for them and they provoked me."

"That doesn't mean it's ok Howard."

"No, I guess it doesn't. Do you think I'm going to hurt you Catherine?"

"Yes," Catherine said truthfully. "I think you will. I think you can't help yourself."

Howard didn't respond to her statement immediately, and Catherine wondered what he was thinking. The flame of the candle flickered in Howard's eyes, making them glow a vibrant red. He looked almost inhuman, Catherine thought.

"You can be the one Catherine," he finally said. "You can be the one to help me- to change me."

"If you want me to help you Howard, you can't do this."

"Do what?"

Catherine put her fork down and gestured widely around her. "This! You can't force us to sit here and play house. You can't keep me here. If you want me to help you, you have to let me go."

Howard shook his head violently. "If I let you go, you'll just turn me in. They'll lock me away."

"Then leave me here. Leave Nevada. They're going to find us sooner or later. You're going to get caught."

Howard shook his head once more. "By then it'll be too late."

The words stopped Catherine cold. "What do you mean by too late Howard?"

He stood abruptly, gathering his dishes. "I think you have potential Catherine. The others- they were just girls. You're a woman. I think that you could be the one for me."

Catherine studied his backside, still reeling from his previous statement.

"What did you mean by too late Howard?" she repeated, halfway aware that she was whispering.

He moved from the kitchen into the main area, and turned on the radio. A slow, soft song was playing on the radio and he reached out his hand to offer it to Catherine. "Why don't we do a little dancing. I know you like to dance Catherine. I hope that you'll perform for me one day. Although, I must admit it makes me jealous. All those men who have seen your naked body - twisting around some pole in a seedy bar." His voice grew louder, and she sensed that if he didn't take the hand offered, her refusal could only provoke him further.

He brought her up and held her. He began running his hand up and down her back, and she shivered involuntarily. He mistook the shiver for pleasure, and brought her closer to him.

"Why did you do it Howard?" she said, muffled against his chest. "Why did you kill them? If you cared about them so much? Why did you kill them?"

Howard closed his eyes, breathing in her scent. She thought he wasn't going to answer, until he said "When I was young, I had a pet chick. It was so beautiful, so fragile. I loved it so much, that I wanted it near me at all times. One day, I took it to bed, wanting it by me while I slept. It wasn't until the morning that I realized that I had rolled over and smothered it in my sleep. I had killed it - killed it with too much love. I think that's what I did with those girls. I loved them too much." He withdrew slightly from her, and tilted her head so she was forced to look into his eyes. "But I won't do that with you Catherine. I've promised myself that you know. While I was in that prison, all I could think about was you."

"You were angry at me," Catherine said, tensing her body.

"Yes, I was. But also, I respected you. You were only doing your job. I know this. But now, there is no job. There's nothing keeping us apart. There's only you and me."

"There's no you and me Howard," Catherine said, now trying to twist out of his grip. "There's only you and your delusions."

"They are not delusions if I can make them come true," he said and her eyes widened as she felt a needle prick her from the backside.

"Howard- what are you-"

He kissed her roughly on the mouth, and she bit down hard, drawing blood in the process. He withdrew from her and wiped the blood off his lips with the backside of his hand. Instead of the grimace of pain she expected, she was rewarded with a grin. He released her from his grip, and she backed away slowly from him, stumbling on the chair behind her. She frantically looked around for a weapon and settled on the steak knife that had been on the table.

Howard shook his finger at her. "Catherine, do you really think that'll hurt me?"

She looked down at the dull knife, gripping it tightly in her hands. When she looked up, he had closed the space between them within lightening speed and forced her hand back. The knife fell to the floor with a loud clatter.

He picked her up effortlessly and carried her over to the bed. She fought, fought harder than her body would allow, but he held her down like a rag doll. She kicked from underneath him, but he pulled her arms back over her head anyway, handcuffing her painfully to the headboard once more. She pulled against the cuffs, only in succeeding in rubbing them red and raw as he slid his knee between her legs and forced them apart. She could feel the drug working its way through her system, and she knew that it was only a matter of time before it overtook her.

"This isn't - this isn't love Howard," Catherine said weakly as she watched him unbuckle his belt. "Don't do this. Please," she begged.

He looked up from his task, and ran a finger down her face, as he had when she first woke up in this horrible place. "It is love Catherine. It's love in its purest form."

And after those words, Catherine's world came crashing down.

* * *


End file.
